The Hunger Game
by Prisspanem
Summary: In a Panem AU, where there are no Hunger Games, Katniss comes across a mysterious game while hunting in the woods. Failing to trade it at the Hob, Katniss decides to offer it to Peeta as payback for the debt of lifesaving bread he gave her years ago. Only, Peeta has a condition of his own. He wants to play. With her. Neither are prepared for the madness that unfolds.


It was while out on one of her usual hunting trips in the woods of District 12 that Katniss found it. Or, more specifically, it found her. She originally thought she had tripped on a tree branch, something she had not done since she was a child and followed her father on his hunting excursions. Feeling foolish and frustrated at herself, she had turned to glare at the offending object, her look of contempt soon replaced by one of confusion.

Sticking out of the ground, was a corner of silver. It looked almost brand new in its crispness, like it had been buried just yesterday. And yet the ground around it showed no signs of having been disturbed in years. Plant roots twisted around it; the mud itself trampled down by months and even years of rainfall, compressing on top of whatever lay mostly hidden in the mud.

Using her fingers and the tip of one of her arrows, Katniss slowly dug the object out of its burial place.

She found in her hands a box, about as wide as the length of her arrow, and half as long. Images seemed to be cast into the surface of the top; Katniss had to use the sleeve of her father's leather hunting jacket to wipe away the remaining dirt on the surface. She revealed various exotic looking animals, none of which she at all recognised; one looked a little like a bee or wasp, but none she had ever seen. The final corner held an image of a stern looking man, possibly in his fifties based on the image, with a long beard and a hard stare.

Looking at it left her feeling cold.

She debated with herself what to do with this unexpected find. Was it valuable? Could she trade it at the Hob? Although she had never seen anything like it before, Katniss did not recognise the metal, but doubted very much that it was precious in any way. And the size was far too awkward to be of any use to anyone. But perhaps there was something inside it she could sell?

It took a few moments for her to find the hidden catch, allowing the box to open on two sides. When she clicked it open, the sound echoing through the trees made her realise just how deathly silent the woods had become around her. She could not hear a single bird. Only the slight spring breeze rustling through the trees above her head.

Suddenly feeling that she did not want to be in the woods for much longer, she quickly opened the box. The contents were puzzling at best. Two silver dice lay in the middle, ready for the owner to roll. At the centre sat what looked like a circular piece of black glass, with ornate carved shapes leading away from it. These ornate carvings adorned the whole of the box, a twisting multitude of squares leading from four corners, reminding her of a game of snakes and ladders she played with Prim as a child.

And at one of the unfolded sides, stood four intricate pieces of metal, each one a different colour. Katniss wasn't sure what they were supposed to be, but the red one looked like the shape of a bird.

The whole thing was a rather beautifully grotesque piece of craftsmanship in its own way. A strange kind of piece of art. And the problem with art, as Katniss well knew, was that in a district where people could barely put food on their table, art was worthless.

Hoping she might be able to get something for the dice at least, Katniss packed up the box, slung her hunting bag over her shoulder, and briskly began her journey back to town.

xXx

As predicted, no one was interested in trading for the box. Even Sae, who would occasionally show slight generosity in her trades with Katniss for her stew, could not be persuaded to take it. No one had a use for art. No one saw the beauty in it.

It was then that she thought of him. Peeta Mellark. The boy who once saved her life by giving her bread, now the young man that decorated the cakes in the bakery as if each was a commissioned painting. The only person in District 12 that could appreciate the beauty in things.

Katniss knew she couldn't trade to Peeta. She owed him too much. But perhaps that was the solution. A gift for him, as payment for the bread he gave her in the rain six years ago, when she was barely 12 and starving. It was the perfect solution to a debt she had carried for so long.

And so she walked to the bakery. A quick glance in the windows as she moved around the back confirmed that his mother Mrs Mellark was not downstairs serving. She could only hope it would not be too awkward asking his father, who always answered the backdoor for their trades, if she could speak to Peeta.

Her fist had barely made contact with the peeling paint of the wooden door, when it was swiftly opened and she found herself face to face not with his father, but with a very surprised Peeta standing in front of her. Her power of speech had somewhat abandoned her in that moment. The only thing that could register was the faint smell of vanilla and cinnamon he always seemed to possess.

"Hey Katniss, are you here to trade?"

His voice snapped her out of whatever haze she always seemed to feel around Peeta Mellark. It unnerved her how much he seemed to throw her.

"Er- well, no. I'm actually, um - here to see you...actually."

The smile on his face turned to a look of confusion, and something else she couldn't place.

"I have something for you." Without looking at him, she swiftly removed the silver box from her hunting bag and thrust it awkwardly towards him. "It's a game - I think. It has dice and pieces and I thought you might like it."

Showing far less interest in the the box than she thought he should, he continued to look at her. "Thanks, but - er - why would -"

"It's got a lot of interesting carvings and things inside too, and I thought because you're really good at art and you seem to enjoy decorating all the cakes, I thought you might appreciate it." She tried to ignore the small smile that formed on his face. He must have found her nervousness amusing. She would just finish what she was going to say so she could get out of there as fast as possible. "And I owe yo so…"

"You owe me?"

"You know," she could feel her face turning crimson. "For the bread."

The smile dropped. "Wait, are you talking about the bread I gave you years ago? Katniss, that wasn't a debt, I just wanted to help. You don't have to give me -"

"Yes I do! You don't understand, that bread saved us. I owe you my family. And I want to give you something to repay that. Please, I can't owe you. I can't." Her heart was pounding in her chest. Why was it she never felt this way around anyone else? Hopefully he would take the gift and then she could just go home and not have to think about him so much-

"I can't play this by myself." His strange response interrupted her thoughts, and she looked up at him. "It looks like it's at least a two player game. I mean, it's beautiful, but -"

A sinking feeling replaced any nerves she had. Of course it wasn't enough. One stupid box she'd dug out of the woods someone had more than likely cast away? What made her think that would be enough?

Peeta stepped a little closer to her. "Look, I don't agree with the debt you think you owe, but if you do want to give me something, then give me a little of your time. Play the game with me."

"I don't have time for games..."

"Well I don't have anyone here that would play it with me. And it would be a shame to let something that's meant to be used go to waste. Please Katniss, play one game with me, and you can call our debt repaid."

She looked at him, considering his offer. "That's what you want?"

"It's what I want."

Her eyes darted towards the bakery behind him. "We couldn't play here. And I need to get home to Prim."

"It doesn't have to be here. Or now even. You just tell me a time and a place OK? I'll leave it up to you."

xXx

She had no idea why she had suggested it. She had thought mutual ground would be the best option. She did not want Peeta coming to the Seam, or people would talk, and she certainly did not want to go to the bakery. His mother would hardly appreciate someone like her in their house.

She wasn't sure why the Victors' Village occurred to her. But it was perfect for places they could play indoors, and aside from Haymitch Abernathy's house, all were deserted. No one was certain why the village of twenty or so houses had been built in the first place. Some stories traced them back to a political situation long before her grandparents had even been born. But there was definitely an air of death and desertion about the place, much like a Cemetary, that stopped anyone actually wanting to live there. Well, except for the town drunk. Nothing seemed to affect Haymitch. He probably liked the solitude.

She climbed the fence around the back of the house they had agreed to meet at, and slid one of the ground floor windows open so that she could climb inside. She had assumed she would be the first one there, so she was surprised to find Peeta already settled and beginning to build a fire. He was always a whiz with fires, she had noticed over the years. He looked distinctly at home in fact, with his navy jumper and dark corduroy trousers a sharp cry from his smart bakery attire. She could just imagine him in a home like this, kids jumping on him asking for piggy backs, a girl with his blue eyes, and a chubby young boy with his golden curls. Something hurt in her chest at the thought.

"You can't light that, people will see the smoke and know we're here. Or the chimney might be blocked, then we'd smoke ourselves out."

"Oh, you're right. Sorry. I was just trying to be useful while I was waiting." He slowly got back up from where he was crouched, dusted his hands off, and then gestured to the coffee table, where he had already set up the game.

"I've got it set up already, you just need to choose a playing piece. Have you eaten? I've got some leftover bread and cakes from the bakery, if you'd like any?"

"No, thank you. Let's just get this over with." She decided it wasn't a flicker of hurt she saw in his eyes.

"Right. Well, I've chosen the monkey. Unless you want that, in which case -"

"No it's fine, I'll just have this one." She picked up the red piece she had noticed in the woods; looking closer, she noticed it was indeed in the shape of a bird. Not any bird she had ever seen. She placed it on one of the starting positions on the board, then told him "you can go first."

"Well, we should probably read the rules before we start." It was only then that she realised the other flap contained a lot of writing. She was rather hoping it was as simple as snakes and ladders.

Peeta cleared his throat. "The Hunger Game. A way for those who seek to find a way to leave their world behind. Roll the dice and move your token, doubles get another turn. First player to reach the finish, or last piece standing, wins." Blue eyes met silver. "Last piece standing? What do you think that means?"

"It means let's just start shall we?" She offered the dice to Peeta, who gestured for her to start.

With a flick of the wrist, Katniss threw the dice onto the board. She barely watched them roll, disinterested in their outcome. Her high score of eleven certainly did not pique her interest. No.

It was the way her red glass piece began to move across the silver board on its own.

Mouths agape, Peeta and Katniss made eye contact. She could see her own shocked reflection in his blue eyes.

"How is it doing that?"

A frown quickly replaced her look of shock. She lifted the board, looked underneath while the piece continued to pace out her steps. Placing it back down on the table, she tried to remove her now frozen piece. It would not budge.

"Katniss!"

Katniss darted her gaze to Peeta's once more, only to find him staring curiously at the centre of the board. Something was forming in the domed glass; letters swirled together, slowly revealing a message. No, a number.

Seventy four.

"What does that mean?" Katniss held up her hand to silence him. Already she could see another message forming in the black glass.

"_Despite their size, beware their sting,_

_You'll question every little thing_."

Before either player could speak, both heads turned to the sound of faint buzzing emanating from the fireplace. Unconsciously, her hand reached out for her bow. She inwardly cursed the fact she didn't bring it with her. Not that she would have felt she needed it.

Despite their staring, nothing appeared. Soon the buzzing seemed to dissipate, and both turned once again to the game.

Holding out her hand with the dice, Katniss simply said "your turn." Instead he sighed, and ran his hand through his hair.

"Look, Katniss, if you don't want to play this, you can go. Honestly. You don't owe me anything. I just wanted to spend a little time with you, but...I kind of want you to _want_ to be here, which I now realise was stupid to think you would."

What was he saying? He wanted to spend time with her? "What? Why?"

"Because... I like you. A lot. You're strong, and smart, and I don't think you realise the effect you can have." He must have taken her silence for embarrassment instead of confusion, so he continued. "Look, I know you don't feel the same way. I didn't ask you here for anything other than to hope to finally get a chance to be your friend." Still, despite the blood whirling through her head, she could not think of anything to respond with. Nobody had wanted to just be her friend. Her hunting partner Gale's friendship had formed from trading hunting skills. Usually she kept people at a distance; it was easier that way. Less people to care about when they slowly starved. But Peeta had wormed his way under her skin years ago, and as she hated to learn, nice people tend to have a way of sticking there.

"I - I don't really know how to be friends."

That small sweet smile she liked to see came back to his face. "Well, wanting to be here helps. The offer still stands for you to leave if you want." She shook her head, and his smile held no hesitancy then. "Then I guess the next step is talking. Sharing things about ourselves."

"What kind of things?"

"The really deep stuff. Like, what's your favourite colour?"

She couldn't help but laugh at that. It surprised her as much as him. "Green. What's yours?"

"Orange."

"Like Effie Trinket, who dyes her hair to match the pumpkins for the autumn festival?"

He wryly shook his head. "No, uh - like the sunset."

They talked that way for a few more minutes. It was a strangely calming experience for Katniss, who usually found most social interactions awkward with other people. Something about this boy disarmed her, and she found herself beginning to enjoy their conversation. It was another buzz from the fireplace, louder this time, that pulled them back to reality.

So Katniss picked up the dice and offered them to him again. As Peeta took the dice from her, she tried not to focus on the heat he left behind from the touch of his hand brushing hers. Whatever it was, he did not seem to notice. Instead, he smiled. She couldn't help but smile back.

Then she watched as he flicked his wrist a couple of times, and released the dice on the board.

Eight.

Once again the piece, his piece this time, began to glide across the spaces as it counted out his score. Katniss attempted to remove it as it scrolled across each square, but it stuck rigidly to the board, pulling her fingers along with it.

Both leaned in to read the message that appeared.

"_In the arena,_

_Stay alive,_

_Until the dice read 3 or 5_."

Were these supposed to be some sort of puzzle? How were they supposed to link with the game exactly?

"These riddles don't seem to make much sense do they?" He had voiced her thoughts, but she didn't have time to respond, because something absurd and definitely could not possibly be real was happening to him.

"Peeta, your hands!"

As he looked down, the shock registered all at once. They were fading. Not just fading, but almost swirling into dust, slowly being pulled into the centre of the board. More and more of him was disappearing, faster and faster, until all he could do was look at her in confusion. "Katniss?"

"Peeta? _PEETA!"_

He was gone. She had no time to react or think, because at that moment the fireplace erupted, and the humming was now painfully sharp and all around her. The first sting to her neck made her yell out in agony. She was hesitant to move though; she had to help Peeta. She couldn't leave him. So she curled up in a ball and waited for them to pass.

It didn't help though; the stings were beginning to hit thick and fast. When she was 9 and hunting with her dad in the woods, Katniss accidentally stumbled upon a bees nest. Her father had pushed her into the lake in order to stop them swarming on her, but not until she had received three stings. At the time, it felt like no pain she had ever felt.

But these were worse. Bee stings felt like needles, and these were fire spreading through her veins. Luminescent spots began to fill her vision, and her neck and left leg felt numb.

Adrenaline had kicked in, surging her towards the door and out onto the street. Her body seemed to know where it should head for help, even as her mind began to wander and her legs began to twitch. To the left of her vision, she thought she could see her dad reaching out to push her into the lake. It didn't occur to her of the impossibility of it, that he had died years ago. A scream cut through before she had a chance to call to him. Who screamed? Was it her?

A swirl of movement on her right turned her head in the direction of a blurred figure, muffled in sound, but instantly recognisable all the same. It was Peeta, running towards her, yelling something. Telling her to run? She _was_ running though.

But she looked down at her legs, and realised she was on her knees. And Peeta was almost there, he could help her she knew it, except just as he was a few feet away from her, something big and dark threw him to the side and she could no longer see him. She looked around madly, screaming his name, but he had gone. Despair began to kick in. She had lost him, the boy with the bread. Something bad had happened, she could feel it, but it was hard to remember what. Why did her face feel wet? Whoever she was, the girl she could hear needed to stop crying.

Some kind of animal was gnawing at her arm, tugging at her; no doubt to drag her away, out of the dark coal mines. Wait, had she always been in the mines? NO, it wasn't the mines. It was just dark. Something was blocking the Sun.

And then there was a distant mumbling of her name, but whoever it was was calling to her from underwater. She could barely hear them. She could smell them though.

Just as the sky began to fill with bugs, the air filled with stale alcohol, and beetles began to pick her flesh from her body, Katniss blacked out.


End file.
